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Herwaist.
Lower.
Oh, hellno.
I stride toward them. “Wait.”
The guy jerks back,startled.
“The light is terrible.” I gesture to the chandelier overhead. “The photo will turn out better if you’re side byside.”
The guy turns it over in his mind, clearly weighing the pros and cons of getting a kiss versus having a snapshot of him with the most striking woman in theroom.
He turns to Rena, but she shrugs. “He’s thephotographer.”
Finally, the man does as I suggest, and I take their photo, barely looking to ensure they’re in theviewfinder.
It’s without a doubt the most careless piece of work I’ve everdone.
I hand him the photo as he walksaway.
When I turn back to Rena, she’s watching me with curiosity. “Really, Dr.Strange?”
“You want quality work, you should’ve hired a photographer, not ageneticist.”
“I happen to like geneticists.” The smile is back in her eyes. I don’t know what it is about her that gets under my skin. That makes me feel something when I haven’t inweeks.
Months.
“How many men have you kissedtonight.”
“Five orsix.”
Jesus. “That’s nothygienic.”
“On the cheek, unless they’re reallycute.”
I glance at her competition, who’s pulling in strongman contenders left andright.
If she keeps at this, she’ll be kissing guys allnight.
And I’ll be stoppingthem.
For some reason, this bothers me, and it’s not the inherent laziness I have toward solving problems that aren’t intellectuallyinteresting.
I turn back to her, finding her attention on me. “How much will you need to beatJamie?”
She crosses to him and exchanges a few words before returning, breathless. “At least five thousand. I’m at twenty-twofifty.”
Her expression’s bright with competitiveness, and I quickly do themath.
Twenty-eight hundred fiftydollars.
“Tell me you takeAmex.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, the gold light overhead making them shine. “You’rekidding.”
Rena’s gaze drops between us, finding the card I’m holding between two fingers. “Wes, I’m helping you because you need the money. I won’t take it fromyou.”
